


The Weight of You

by tayeah



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Denial, Grief, M/M, Nezumi PoV, alternative ending, dealing with death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayeah/pseuds/tayeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Now, mentally miles and years away from exploding buildings, corruption and life-or-death situations, I ask myself: why did I ever even think that love could be such a weight to carry? And even if it is, why did I ever think I wouldn’t want to carry it?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of You

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers of the anime ending, duh!  
>   
> While the differences between the manga and the anime bug me a lot, a part of me wishes the anime makers had taken the story all the way to the direction it was heading. Meaning, even though it would've been horrible if Shion had actually died, it would've made the story very bittersweet and heartbreaking and, shortly put, better. So I thought I might as well finish what the anime writers started, in the form of a fic.

I let my body give up. It feels heavy against the ground when I lie there motionless, my eyes fixed on you. My lungs feel too tired to breathe and my muscles ache, but I don’t really pay attention to that. I don’t want to move.

I don’t even know when they left us. I didn’t listen.  
”Just us now”, I tell you. My voice is dry.

I’m still waiting for you to move, to turn on your side, to face me and smile. Your smile is always mesmerizing; it’s not just a curl of the lips, it’s sparks in the eyes, it’s pure light in this dim world. You are always curious and full of questions.

”Aren’t you going to ask why we stopped?” I ask. ”What are we waiting for, right?”

I never liked waiting; I’ve always the constant need to move. When I stay still and live through stable, ordinary moments, I get numb. Numbness slows me down. It makes me feel unprotected. I prefer being in danger, if it means that I don’t have to wait and rot. I never told you that, but I’m pretty sure you know it already.

But honestly, right now, I’ve forgotten all the reasons why I don’t like stopping. Why bother.

I know that even if you asked, the answer wouldn’t matter to you – you’d still accept it. You’d ask why I want to lie still on the ground, but you wouldn’t even wait for the answer, you’d just make yourself comfortable beside me. You have that amazing ability to accept and adapt. You don’t doubt, you trust. It will never stop amazing me, how you just _trust_.

You practically don’t have any hate or skepticism in you. It’s in me instead. I carry it for you.

”Truth is, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else”, I say quietly, ”if you’re here.”

I try to be as still as I can.

You’re doing it better.

Wind breezes and I realize I’m getting cold. I instinctively reach out to touch you, to get a share of your warmth. Your touch has always been warm to me. I never noticed before how cold my blood runs in my veins until your touch suddenly made it all warm. 

It’s taken me a long time to get used to another person playing such an important part in my life. I’ve always thought that having something eventually means giving up something. Relinquishing. 

That changed eventually; suddenly. But it was too late.

Still, with everything that has happened during the last few hours, it feels like it was a thousand years ago that I caught myself thinking that I could, maybe, after all, relinquish the thought of relinquishing.

Now your skin is cool.

I feel numb.

You used to spend time lying on the bed sometimes, eyes closed, just like you are now. You weren’t asleep and you knew I was stealing the chance to stare at the curtain of your eyelashes. You gave that chance to me, because that sight always made me calm down, but I was too much of a coward to just look at you openly. When you opened your eyes again, I was always already looking away as if I wasn’t in love.

”Open your eyes”, I beg. ”I want to tell you something.”  
Shion, I’m in love.

To me, love has always shackles on people’s ankles. But now it seems that after all, I learned to carry it.

Now, mentally miles and years away from exploding buildings, corruption and life-or-death situations, I ask myself: why did I ever even think that love could be such a weight to carry? And even if it is, why did I ever think I wouldn’t want to carry it?

”Shion, I should’ve admitted it sooner”, I say. ”I know I’m late with this. We could’ve had so much by now.”

The last rays of sunlight disappear. 

My hand lies next to yours. I try to imagine your warmth radiating from your body to mine. I can’t feel it. I’m absentmindedly starting to think that behind this numbness in me, there might be something else. Like there is something hopeless, something terminal about this situation that I’m trying desperately to deny.

I think in the back of my mind, I know what’s going on. But I guess my mind is doing this trick I’ve heard minds do, where it tries to convince me that everything has not fallen apart. My mind is trying to make me believe you’ll open your eyes in just a second.

Somewhere behind this inability to feel anything, anger is swirling, storming. I’m so angry at you. You had no right to completely ignore my wish to keep our distance. You had no right to become so important to me. You had no right to take a grip of me and hold me so tightly that I couldn’t breathe, and after that, couldn’t breathe without you. You had no right.

And I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have become a part of your life. I shouldn’t have made this all happen. And I shouldn’t have wasted our time together.

”I’m so sorry.” Hot streams of salty liquid pour along the side of my face, but I don’t care. ”I won’t leave you again.”

I want to make endless promises to you, I want to promise to lie here with you until you’re ready to get up. But suddenly I can hear the small voice in me that stands alone in opposition. That voice speaks quietly, but clearly. Most of me believes in the deep breath you’ll take – soon, very soon, any second now, I can almost hear it – just _take it already_ – but then there is that small, disturbing part of me, pushed down and weak part, that keeps getting stronger by the minute and saying horrible things.

Like that it’s been a long time since you last breathed.  
Like that you won’t get up.

The most horrible thing is, I slowly find myself realizing that I have no means of proving that voice wrong.

I look at your pale, peaceful face for the last time before I let my eyes close. I’ll stay. I’ll lie down here with you. We can imagine this is a normal day, that the sun is up and the wind is warm and your voice is brisk. I’ll answer your stupid questions, if you let me rest my eyes on you in return. You’ll kiss me.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear sirens wailing. They won’t find us, though. We’re too far. We get to be alone.

Don’t leave.

Come back.

Take me with you.

As the night crawls above us, I move closer to you. I wrap my arm around you and press my forehead against the side of your face. Your lips are blue.

You’re not warm, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I no longer feel cold. I’m good here; it feels like there could not be any other way. You are pure. You’re purifying me.

My pulse weakens.

I hope you’ll be leading the way.


End file.
